Quotes from Khaled Hosseini

I understood the nature of my new curse: I was going to get away with it.

Ik deed Sohrabs deur dicht en vroeg me af of vergiffenis op die manier opbloeit: niet met het trompetgeschal van een openbaring, maar met de pijn die zijn boeltje pakt en midden in de nacht onaangekondigd wegglipt.

She waited until he had left the kolba, before snickering and saying, 'The children of strangers get ice cream. What do you get, Mariam? Stories of ice cream' (Hosseini 6).

I finally had what I'd wanted all those years. Except now that I had it, I felt as empty as this unkempt pool I was dangling my legs into.

A life lived from the backseat, observed as it blurred by. An indifferent life.

They say, Find a purpose in your fine and live it. But, sometimes, it is only after you have lived that you recognize your life had a purpose, and likely one you never hand in mind.

Like a compass needle that points north, a man's accusing finger always finds a woman.

They made her aware of her own lowliness, her plain looks, her lack of aspirations, her ignorance of so many things.

At the time, I must have been in my late twenties, a young man at the prime of his desires for a woman's company. Unlike many of the men I grew up with in my village- young men who had never seen the bare thigh of a grown woman and married, in part, for the license to at least cast their gaze upon such a sight- I did have some experience.

Ispovra?ao sam se u žbunje, a moje grcanje i stenjanje bilo je prigušeno zaglušuju?im urlikom MIG-a.

Bu kadar mutlu olmana senden bir ?ey alacaklar? zaman izin verirler yaln?zca.

I dream that my son will grow up to be a good person, a free person, and an important person. I dream that lawla flowers will bloom in the streets of Kabul again and rubab music will play in the samovar houses and kites will fly in the skies. And I dream that someday you will return to Kabul to revisit the land of our childhood. If you do, you will find an old faithful friend waiting for you.

At night, I served them dinner, and they each received the meal in pointed silence, gaze lowered to the platter of rice, the quiet broken only by a muttered Thank you and the tinkling of spoon and fork against china

I'm tired, Pari. You can scold me another time. The whipping post isn't going anywhere.

Yaln?zca tek bir günah vard?r; h?rs?zl?k. DiÄŸer tüm hepsi onun türevleridir. Misal, yalan atarsan bir insan?n doÄŸruya ulaÅŸma hakk?n? çalm?? olursun.

I had always pictured her living a tumultuous, wayward life, hard years of bad luck-fits and starts,collapse,regret-and ill advised, desperate love affairs. I had always imagined that she'd self-destructed, likely drank herself to the kind of early death that people always call tragic

Bilo bi pogrešno re?i da je Sohrab bio tih. Tišina je mir. Tišina je okretanje dugmeta za glasno?u života. Muk je pritiskivanje dugmeta za isklju?ivanje. Gašenje. Svega.

He didn't so much live with us as occupy space. And precious little of it. Sometimes, at the market, or in the park, I'd notice how other people hardly seemed to even see him, like he wasn't there at all. I'd look up from a book and realize Sohrab had entered the room, had sat across from me, and I hadn't noticed. He walked like he was afraid to leave behind footprints. He moved as if not to stir the air around him. Mostly, he slept.

She shook the dice in her hands, seemed to reconsider.

When the ferry groaned and lurched away, leaving behind a trail of churned-up water. I thought Madaline would stand at the stern and wave and blow kisses. But she quickly moved toward the bow and took a seat. She didn't look our way.

J'ai trouvé une triste petite fée A l'ombre d'un arbre en papier Je connais une triste petite fée Que le vent un jour a soufflée.

J'aurais du etre plus gentille - I should have been more kind. That is something a person will never regret.

downpour lashing at her face is becoming heavier and more steady, rippling windows, smearing headlights. Pari has no memory of ever meeting the man, her grandfather, Maman's father, has seen only the one photograph of him reading at his desk, but she doubts that he was the mustache-twirling villain Maman has made him out to be. Pari thinks she sees through this story. She has her own ideas. In her version, he is a man rightfully worried over the well-being of

I wonder if he's ever tasted salt water or got dizzy watching the tide pull away from his feet